


An Unearthly Sage

by BloodLily16



Series: Doctor Swap AU [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Roleswap, Background Barbara/Ian if you have your shipping goggles on tight, Coal Hill School, Episode Rewrite: An Unearthly Child, Gen, Period Typical Sexism, Susan Foreman is the Doctor, The Doctor (Doctor Who) is a Companion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodLily16/pseuds/BloodLily16
Summary: In an alternate universe where the names and histories attached to certain faces are shifted, science teacher Barbara Wright and history teacher Ian Chesterton follow the mysterious old librarian James Foreman to 76 Totter's Lane, where they meet a young woman who calls herself the Doctor.
Series: Doctor Swap AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146461
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	An Unearthly Sage

**Author's Note:**

> In case the premise wasn't especially clear, this is a roleswap AU where I switched the places of the Doctor with one of their companions. I usually pick these based off of which companion is most 'iconic' and then I give the new companion a role which either fills what their counterpart played. Check out my twitter thread for more info: https://twitter.com/BLily16/status/1310067795846221824
> 
> "An Unearthly Child" was originally written by Anthony Coburn and directed by Waris Hussein.

Barbara Wright waved off the last of her students, watching as they walked down the bright corridors of Coal Hill School, past the bulletin board laden with notices and advertisements, and around the corner to the outside. On a normal day, Barbara would have followed them after little more than a half hour of grading and reading up on whatever journal articles her old friends from university had sent her. One of her friends from her graduating class back in university had sent her a xerox of a medical journal article about knuckle cracking and its effects upon the cartilage in the finger joints, and barbara was looking forward to settling down with a nice mug of tea and reading it. Perhaps that made her odd: looking forward to reading an article like that. But it was what she liked, and it was what she hoped to do.

However, the article, and its fellow sheaves of paper, would have to wait. Instead of returning to her classroom and the laboratory equipment and desk therein, Barbara ducked into the history classroom nearby. 

Inside of the classroom the history teacher, a man named Ian Chesterton, was picking up after his own classes. He had a book out on the French Revolution, and was putting other textbooks and history books back into order on the small shelf by his desk. When Barbara entered, Ian looked up and smiled at her. 

“Oh, not gone yet?” He smiled playfully.

“Obviously not.” Barbara realized how snappish she sounded just after the words left her mouth. She felt especially tired, especially with the knowledge she wanted to share with Ian. In addition, it had been one of those days when her job grated on her; some people didn’t know when to stay quiet. Of course, that was no reason to take it out on Ian.

“Right.” Ian ducked his head down to dust a book. “Ask a silly question.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That's all right. I'll forgive you this time.” Ian smiled and straightened up, finished with his organization. 

Barbara let out a long sigh like the exhaustion was escaping from her bones and sat down on a chair in a manner which could not strictly be called ladylike. “Oh, I had a terrible day. I don't know what to make of it.”

“Oh, what's the trouble?” Ian dusted his hands off and turned to face her, looking concerned. “Can I help?” 

“It’s about Mr. Foreman.”

“Old James?” Ian quirked an eyebrow. “He isn’t giving you trouble is he?”

“Not quite,” said Barbara. “I have to tell you, Ian, I don’t know what to make of the old man.”

“How old is the man?” asked Ian. It seemed like a nonsequiteur, but Barbara knew from experience that Ian was building to some greater point.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. 

“Nor do I,” said Ian. “He looks as if he’s in his fifties, perhaps his sixties, but I tell you, he could be Methuselah for all I know. Oh, he knows his history better than I ever could.” He stopped. “Is he doing the same with science?”

Barbara nodded her head. “When we talk, I always feel as if I’m a child talking to a rocket scientist. He’s a genius; what he’s doing here, working in a high school library, I’ll never know.”

“So your problem is whether to stay in business or hand the class over to him, is that it?”

“No, not quite.”

“What is it, then?”

Barbara wrung her hands together. “Ian, I must talk to someone about this, but I don't want to get the old man into trouble. And I know you're going to tell me I'm imagining things.”

Ian leaned in. “No I’m not.”

“Well, I told you how skilled he is when it comes to scientific knowledge. I asked him where he’d learned it all, and he suddenly refused to talk to me, saying that a stranger like me had no right to pry into things which should be kept between him and his granddaughter.” Barbara paused to let the statement sink in. “it was a bit of a shock, really I thought he lived alone. Apparently she’s a doctor of some sort.”

“That’s funny, he does all his own cooking and shopping; he told me as much himself,” said Ian. “How old is his granddaughter?”

“Old enough to help him, especially if they’re living together,” said Barbara. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t put much thought to it, but we’ve gotten into a habit of discussing recent advancements over lunch, and I’ve noticed that he never has anything with him more substantial than a mug of tea. When I asked him if he was hungry, he changed the subject.”

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the old boy eat.” 

“Finally I decided enough was enough, and I decided to have a talk with this granddaughter of his and tell her to look after him a little better.” 

“Did you indeed?” Ian leaned back in his chair. “What’s the girl like?”

“Well, that's just it.” Barbara leaned forward in her chair. “I got her address from the secretary, 76 Totter's Lane, and I went along there one evening--.” She stopped. Ian had seen a smudge on the desk and was attempting to clean it off, annoyingly. “Oh Ian, do pay attention.”

“Sorry.” Ian folded his hands in his lap. “You went along there one evening?”

“There isn't anything there. It's just an old junkyard.”

Ian furrowed his brow. “You must have gone to the wrong place.”

“Well, that was the address the secretary gave me.”

“The secretary got it wrong, then.”

“No! I checked. There's a big wall on one side, houses on the other and nothing in the middle. And this nothing in the middle is number 76 Totter's Lane!” 

“Hmm.” Ian leaned forward and thought for a second. “That's a bit of a mystery. Well, there must be a simple answer somewhere.”

“Well, what?” Barbara crossed her arms.

“Well, we'll have to find out for ourselves, won't we?” Ian flashed her a grin.

“Thank you for the we.” Barbara smiled, relaxing. 

Ian stood up. “You’re lucky you came to me now. James is waiting for me in the library. I'm lending him a book on the French Revolution.” He went over to his desk, gesturing at the book.

“What's he going to do, rewrite it?” snarked Barbara. 

Ian shrugged. “What do we do about his situation? Ask him point-blank?”

“No,” said Barbara, “I thought we could drive there, wait till he arrives and see where he goes.”

“Oh, all right.” Ian tucked the book under his arm and walked back over to her. 

“That is, if you're not doing anything.”

“No, I'm not.” Ian made a sweeping gesture toward the door with his free hand. “After you.”

***  
  


The Coal Hill Library was of a modest size, but what it lacked in square footage it made up for in density. Since James Foreman had taken up the mantle of school librarian after a long vacancy in the position, the amount of books in the library had increased; gradually enough to not notice at first, but now it was almost stalling. The old man himself fit right in with the books. He and his perennial frock coat and suit seemed a natural part of the dense forest of books: Pan to Arcadia, as Ian might joke. James surprised Barbara sometimes. The man looked as if he belonged in some Victorian period piece, yet he seemed to be very much ahead of his time in other ways. When discussing the Russian cosmonaut, Valentina Tereshkova, and he spaceflight, the man had made an odd remark about how women may be following men to orbit, but they’d lead them to Mars. 

The old man was listening to some newfangled rock music on the radio with a serious expression on his face, as if he were breaking codes. It was such a juxtaposition that barbara had to bite back a laugh.

“James?” asked Barbara.

“Hm?” James turned to Barbara and Ian. “Oh, I'm-- I’m sorry, my dear girl. I didn't hear you coming in.” He gestured toward the radio. “Curious harmonics on that one. I can’t decide if it’s brilliant or foolish.” He turned it off with a flick of his fingers and turned to Ian. “Ah, yes, yes. Chesterton. Is that the book you promised me?”

“Yes.” Ian handed it over and James took it with both hands. He turned it over, inspecting it as if it were a christmas gift.

“Thank you very much, my boy. I expect it will be interesting.” He flipped through the pages and shut it with a flourish. “I'll return it to you tomorrow.”

“Oh, that's not necessary. Keep it until you've finished it.” 

“I'll have finished it.” James raised his eyebrows and stared Ian down, daring him to contradict him. 

Ian knew better by now, of course, and nodded at James. “Oh, where do you live, James? I'm giving Miss Wright a lift, I've got room for one more.”

“A lift?” James looked the both of them over. Barbara tried to seem neutral. James shook his head. “No, no, thank you, Chesterton. I prefer to walk. It’s good to stir the blood, and set the mind in motion, hm?” He tapped his head with a knowing smile. 

“Be careful, James,” said Barbara, “there'll probably be fog again tonight.” 

“Hm. Mmm.” James opened the book, signaling the end of the conversation. 

“See you in the morning.”

“Yes, I expect so.” James nodded at them. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, James.” Ian waved a little, and he and Barbara left. Barbara sighed. 

If she had stayed around any longer, or perhaps strained her ears back at the library, she would have heard James, in the midst of a page, mumble furiously as to how wrong the book’s author was.

***

Barbara snuggled back into her coat. The night was nippy, though thankfully not foggy. Ian’s car was old, and while it did have a heater, the thing didn’t work quite right. 

“We're lucky there was no fog,” mused Ian. “I'd never have found this otherwise.”

“Well, he doesn't seem to have arrived yet.” Barbara craned her neck to make doubly sure before slumping back in her seat. “I suppose we are doing the right thing, aren't we?”

“You can't justify curiosity,” said Ian, “though it is a necessity for your line of work.”

“But his meals?”

“A bit of an excuse, really, isn't it?” asked Ian. At Barbara’s look, he sighed. “The man sits around reading all day and hardly leaves his seat. He could simply be eating larger meals at home. The truth is, we're both curious about james and we won't be happy until we know some of the answers.”

“You can't just pass it off like that. If I thought I was just being a busybody, I'd go straight home. I thought you agreed she was a bit of a mystery.”

“Yes, but I think you'll find there's a very simple explanation to all this.”

“No, doesn't make sense!” Barbara clapped her hands together and rubbed them for warmth, exhaling on them to try to restore some feeling to her flushed fingertips. “Nothing about this man makes sense. For instance, the other day I talking about chemical changes when he’d stopped by. I'd given out the litmus paper to show cause and effect--!”

“And he blurted out the answer before you'd started.” Ian nodded. 

“Well, not quite,” said Barbara. “He suggested something more ‘interesting’ for me to teach them instead.”

“He did what?”

“He told me, ‘Yes, I can see red turns to blue, but that's because you’re dealing with two inactive chemicals. They only act in relation to each other. It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?’ When I asked him what alternatives he had in mind, he suggested an experiment with two  _ active _ chemicals instead. ‘Then red could turn blue all by itself and you and your students could get on with something else.’”

“You have me there.” Ian crossed his arms. “The old man is odd. I have to admit, I don't know how you explain the fact that a sixty year old man does not know how many shillings there are in a pound.”

“Really?” Barbara was taken aback.

“Really.” Ian nodded. “He said he thought we were on the decimal system.”

“ _ Decimal system? _ ”

“Yes,” said Ian. “My students thought it was funny, and all he told me for his reasoning was that we weren’t on the decimal system  _ yet _ .” He sighed. “It's almost got to the point where I deliberately want to trip him up.”

“I did something like that,” said Barbara. “I called him in for help finding a replacement textbook while setting the class a problem with A, B and C as the three dimensions.”

“And?”

“He told me it was impossible without D and E.”

“D and E?” asked Ian. 

“D for time, and E for space.”

“Too many questions and not enough answers.” Ian mulled it over and sighed. “Senile? Or just doesn't know. So we have an old man who is absolutely brilliant at some things, and excruciatingly bad at others, with odd habits and mysterious past.”

“There he is.”

James had appeared from around the corner. He was wearing a brimless felt hat, a dark Astrakhan which Barbara recognized as being in style for men around his age, and his neck was wrapped in a grey scarf. He walked along with his cane. He glanced about, and Barbara held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice them. She felt Ian stiffen beside her as well. James looked around and ducked into the junkyard. Barbara couldn’t help but notice that the foreman’s name and title was painted in large letters on the fence. The two teachers waited what felt like ages after the old man finally went in before they relaxed. 

“Look, can we go in now?” asked Barbara. “I hate to think of him alone in that place.”

“If he is alone,” said Ian. “Perhaps he’s friends with the foreman. Didn't that occur to you?”

“I almost hope he is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it would be so wonderfully normal.” Barbara forced a shaky smile. “It's silly, isn't it? I feel frightened. As if we're about to interfere in something that is best left alone.”

“Come on, let's get it over with.”

They two of them clambered out of the car. Barbara drew the collar of her coat tight around her neck. The chill in the air did nothing to belie the chills she was already feeling. Ian shivered. 

“Well, don't you feel it?” asked Barbara.

Ian looked at her. There was something odd in his eyes, but he blinked it away and shook his head. “I take things as they come,” he said. “Come on.” 

They crossed the street and entered, quietly. Barbara pulled a small torch out of her coat pocket, a tool she’d found necessary in a pinch, and handed it to Ian. 

There was no sign of James in the scrapyard. The place was a mess. Barbara looked around and nearly screamed at the sight of a ghostly figure lain upon a twisted bed of claws, only for her eyes to adjust. It was a broken mannequin on top of scrap metal. She sighed in relief. 

“What a mess.” Ian shone the torch around, showing more broken objects and twisted metal. “We're not turning over any of this stuff to find him.”

Barbara looked around and saw a path through the piles. “Over there?” She pointed. 

Ian went to move forward, but tripped over something that made a gigantic clatter. Barbara jumped and ran over to him. 

“Blast.” Ian had landed on his knees. Barbara helped him up. ”I've dropped it.”

“What?” 

“The torch.”

Barbara groaned. “Well, use a match.”

“I haven't got any,” said Ian. “You?”

“No.” 

“Oh, never mind.”

“James?” called Barbara.

“James?” called Ian. “James! It’s Mister Chesterton and Miss Wright.”

He called for a few minutes, to no avail. Barbara picked her way over the non euclidian hulks of garbage, trying to pick out another living soul. The feeling she had quickened, She swore she felt a presence.”

“She can't have got out without us seeing her,” grumbled Ian, behind her.

Barbara turned the corner and stopped. Illuminated by the faint light around them was a police box. Just a police box, standing in a clearing in the scrap. It looked perfectly ordinary, and should have been perfectly ordinary, were it not for its location.

“Ian,” called Barbara, “look at this.”

Ian ran over to catch up with her, and slowed and stopped to look at the box with her.

“It's a police box!” Ian leaned forward.” What on earth's it doing here? These things are usually on the street.” 

Barbara had crept forward and touched the side of it. When she touched the painted wood, she gasped. “Feel it. Feel it.” Ian leaned forward and touched it, too. “Do you feel it?” asked Barbara. It was softly vibrating and a degree or two warmer than it should have been.

“It's a faint vibration.” 

“It’s alive!” 

Ian walked around the police box, finding nothing. “It's not connected to anything, unless it's through the floor.”

Barbara’s chill intensified. “Look, I've had enough,” she said. “Let's go and find a policeman.”

“Yes, all right.” Whatever Ian had thought in the car, it was clear he believed something extremely odd was going on now.

Then, the relative silence of the night was suddenly broken by a cough from behind them. 

“Is that him?” asked Barbara.

“That's not him,” hissed Ian. He looked around. “Quick.”

The two teachers ducked behind a tangled mass of what may have one been a car as a young woman walked into view. She was wearing a black pinafore and a black leather jockey cap, and had dainty, elfin features with black hair and pale skin. She walked silently and glanced over her shoulder as she approached the police box. She stopped and pulled out something silver that glinted in the moonlight. A key. She put it in the lock, and turned it. There was an audible click.

“Ah, there you are, dear.” A familiar voice rang out through the night

“It's James.” Barbara grabbed Ian’s arm tightly. She had been concerned about the old man’s living conditions, but being locked inside anything like a police box had been ludicrous; almost cartoonishly evil! She never would have thought about it, but here it was, in front of her own eyes. 

Ian shushed Barbara and then stepped out of hiding.

“Excuse me,” he said. 

The girl jumped at the sight of him, puling away.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, accusatory. Barbara probably would have had a similar reaction if a strange man had approached her in the middle of the night, but there was something off about the girl. Barbara couldn’t place it, but she there was something odd about her reactions, and the way she held herself. 

“We're looking for an old man,” said Ian, nodding at Barbara.

“We?” the girl looked at Barbara, and Barbara had a feeling that despite the darkness, she’d been spotted. She climbed out from behind the scrap and joined Ian. 

“Good evening,” she said. 

The girl studied the both of them. “What do you want?”

“One of our coworkers, James Foreman, came into this yard.”

“Really? “ asked the girl. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Barbara, “we saw him from across the street.”

“Not the police, then,” murmured the girl. She must not have thought the two treachers could hear her. 

“I beg your pardon?” asked Ian.

“Why were you were spying on him?” The girl took a step forward, jerking her chin up to glare at them. “Who are you?”

“We heard an old man’s voice call out to you.”

“I didn't hear anything.” She shook her head.

“It came from in here!” Barbara jabbed a finger at the police box.

“You imagined it.”

“I certainly did not imagine it.”

“Why would anybody be inside a cupboard like that?” The girl shrugged and went over to inspect a pile of scrap. her gaze settled on an old picture frame. 

“Would it therefore be unreasonable to ask you to let us have a look inside?”

“I've never seen that before.” The girl picked up the frame. “Oh, it’s too bad, it’s so dirty.”

“Won't you help us?” Barbara stepped forward. “We're two of his fellow teachers from the Coal Hill School. We saw him come in and we haven't seen him leave. Naturally, we're worried.”

“Have to be cleaned.” The girl put the frame down to the side. “It doesn’t sound like any of my business. I suggest you leave here.”

“Not until we're satisfied that James isn't in there,” said Ian. “And frankly, I don't understand your attitude.”

“I don’t particularly care for yours either!”

Barbara’s eyebrows shot up. 

Ian looked flabbergasted, but he soon recovered. “Will you open the door?”

“There's nothing in there.”

“Then what are you afraid to show us?”

“Ah, yes, that old saying,” said the girl. “If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear, is that it? Why should I have to submit to any search by you? After all, you’re teachers, but I’m not your student. Haven’t you done enough trouble, stalking your poor coworker? Leave him be.”

Ian stepped back, furrowing his brow. He looked at Barbara.

Barbara straightened up. “I think we'd better go and fetch a policeman.”

“I won’t stop you,” said the girl.

“And you're coming with us!” 

“I will not.” The girl crossed her arms. “you can’t make me, either. You’ve bullied a poor old man, and now you’ll drag a young girl off into the night?”

“By that logic we can't leave you here.”

Ian leaned up against Barbara and whispered to him. “Doesn't it seem obvious to you she's got him locked up in there? Look at it. There's no door handle. There must be a secret lock somewhere.”

“That was James’s voice.” Barbara nudged Ian, hoping he’d get the hint. 

“But of course it was,” said Ian, catching on. “James! James! James, are you in there? It's ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright!

“I think you're being high-handed.” The girl put her hands on her hips. “You  _ thought _ you saw an old man enter the yard. You  _ imagine _ you heard his voice. You  _ believe _ he might be in the box. I certainly hope the local police won’t take any claim that flimsy seriously.”

“But why won't you help us?” asked Barbara.

“I’m not stopping you from going to find a policeman.”

“While you nip off quietly in the other direction,” said Ian.

“That’s insulting.” The girl drew her shoulders back. “There’s only one way in and out of this yard. And besides, why would I leave and miss out on a chance to see your faces when you try to explain away your behaviour to a policeman?”

“Nevertheless, we're going to find one,” said Ian. “Come on, Barbara.”

The two turned to leave when they heard a creaking noise.

“What are you doing out there?” asked James’s voice, clearer than ever. Barbara and Ian wheeled around to see the girl frantically trying to get into the box.

“He is in there!” said Ian.

“Close the door!” shouted the girl. “Grandfather, close the door!” 

“Get the door!” Barbara ran and grabbed the girl, who kicked and shouted. 

“Let me go, or I’ll scream!” she shouted. 

“Ian, get in!” shouted Barbara.

Ian ran in, bursting through the door to the police box. Whit light poured outwards. Barabara was surprised enough that the girl was able to wriggle free. She charged into the box, and Barbara ran after her, hot on her heels. 

What she found inside the box was not what she was expecting at all. 

Barbara found herself standing in a large room, with white walls with roundels on them. Various pieces of furniture, many of them antiques in mint condition. There was a chair, a hatstand, an old clock, and in the middle of the room was a giant console with various buttons and dials on it. It had six sides, and a clear cylinder with technological bits and bobs within it. At the console seemed to be labelled in something akin to Greek, with other buttons covered in circles and lines, but then they changed before Barbara’s eyes into English.

James was standing at the console, looking befuddled. As soon as Barbara stumbled in, he flipped a switch and the doors swung shut behind her. Automated. Barbara didn’t know that was possible. She also wanted to kick herself for being amazed at the doors when the interior of this… alleged police box defied everything she knew. Ian was staring at the room as well, seemingly befuddled. The girl ran over to stand by James. 

“What are you doing here?” asked James. 

“Where are we?” asked Barbara.

“They followed you,” said the girl. “They told me, they followed you and were going to bring the police along!” Despite her calm exterior when they were outside the… the whatever it was they were in now, the girl seemed borderline frantic.

“But why should they follow me, hm?” asked James. He took the girl by the hands and squeezed them, comfortingly. The girl must be his granddaughter, Barbara realized. The one who was a doctor.

“Is this really where you live, James?” asked Barbara.

“Yes, it is.” James puffed out his chest and turned to face them. 

“Why, do you have a problem with it?” snapped his granddaughter.

“But it was just a telephone box.” Ian looked up at the vaulted ceiling.

“Perhaps.” James cockked his head. 

“And this is your granddaughter?” asked Barbara.

“Yes, yes she is,” said James. 

“But why didn't you tell us that?” Barbarta turned to the granddaughter. 

“Grandfather and I don’t care to discuss our private lives with strangers,” said the granddaughter, simply. 

“But it was a police telephone box.” Ian turned to look at them all. “I walked all around it. Barbara, you saw me.”

Barbara nodded. She was about to speak, when the granddaughter broke in. 

“You don't deserve any explanations!” snapped the girl, bounding over to Barbara and Ian, pushing herself in between them and James. “You pushed your way in here despite the fact that you had no right, no right whatsoever, to come in!” She stormed over to a table with the ornate, antique clock. 

“I think we ought to leave,” said Barbara. There was still something off about the situation. Something she couldn’t put a finger on. In addition, the feeling she’d had earlier, of meddling, was intense and awful.

“No, just a minute.” Ian turned to face Barbara. “I know this is absurd, but I feel--” He gesticulated wildly. “I walked all round it!” Ian looked as lost as Barbara felt. He turned to look at the Doctor. 

“Oh, no, the clock stopped,” said the Doctor, peering at the clock. She straightened up and looked Barbara and Ian over. “Oh, it’s no use. You wouldn't understand.”

“But  _ we _ want to understand!” said Barbara.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you do.” The Doctor looked at them the way Barbara might look at an unruly pupil, with sarcasm practically dripping from her, and then turned to James. “Here, Grandfather. I found a replacement for that faulty filament. It's a bit primitive, but I think it'll work.” She handed him a technical-looking piece of machinery. James looked it over, nodded, and ducked under the console.

Ian was wandering around the entrance, touching the walls with a helpless sort of expression on his face.

“It's an illusion,” Barabara came over and grabbed Ian’s arm, gripping him tight in an attempt to ground him. “It must be.”

“Oh, what are you talking about now?” asked the Doctor. 

“Ohh, what are you two still doing here?” asked James. He stood up and wiped his hands off on a white rag. “You two have better things to do and bother my granddaughter and I. Go home, both of you.”

“You don't understand,” said the Doctor, “so you find excuses. Yes, you people are quite good at excuses, aren’t you? You can't fit an enormous building into one of your smaller sitting rooms, can you?”

“Of course not!” said Barbara. 

“But you've discovered television, haven't you?”

“Yes.”

“Then by showing an enormous building on your television screen, you can do what seemed impossible, couldn't you?” The Doctor smirked, obviously pleased with herself. 

“Well, yes,” admitted Barbara, “but I still don't know--.”

“Not quite clear, is it.” The Doctor cut her off. “I can see by your face; you're not certain. Oh, I knew you wouldn't.” She fiddled with the controls, and then flipped switches and pressed buttons in a sequence. The humming of the room intensified slightly. “Of course, now we have a problem. Naturally.” 

“I’m terribly sorry.” James had a grim look on his face. “Yes, what an old fool I am. I should have realized that something like this would happen; I simply didn’t expect them to take such an interest in me. Why should they?” He rubbed his chin. “Why should they?”

“What’s done is done,” said the Doctor. “Now we have to deal with the problem. Oh, they'll tell everybody about the ship now.”

Barbara started.

“Ship?” asked Ian. 

“This doesn't roll along on wheels, you know.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow at them. 

“You mean it moves?” asked Barbara. She thought of the idea of a ambulatory police box. If it weren’t for the impossibility of the current situation, she would have laughed. 

"Oh, my, my my my dear girl,” said James. “The TARDIS can go anywhere.” 

“The TARDIS?” asked Ian. “Come on now, James, I don't understand.”

“Well, you see, my boy,” said James, “when I was younger, I made up the name TARDIS from the initials, Time And Relative Dimension In Space.” He gestured up at the room they were in. “See? The dimension on the outside is much smaller than the one on the outside, isn’t it? Yes, yes, it’s quite self-explanatory.” 

“Just let me get this straight.” Barbara rubbed her temples. “A thing that looks like a police box, standing in a junkyard, it can move anywhere in time and space?”

“Yes,” said the Doctor.

“Quite so,” said James. 

“But that's ridiculous!” spluttered Ian.

“I expected better from the two of you.” James sighed. “Don’t you even trust your own eyes?”

“How can we?” asked Barbara. 

“You musn’t hold it against them, Grandfather,” said the Doctor. “I know you respect these two, but you must understand, they’re products of their time! Contradictory thoughts and lapses of logic are in their nature.” 

“Don’t insult us!” snapped Barbara. “You're treating us like children!”

“Am I?” The Doctor looked faintly amused. “What a laugh. The children of our civilisation would be insulted.”

“ _ Your _ civilisation?”

“Yes, our civilisation.” The Doctor puffed her chest out. “I might tolerate this century, but I don't enjoy it. Have you ever thought what it's like to be wanderers in the fourth dimension? Have you? To be exiles? To be trapped alone in a savage culture like this? My grandfather and I are cut off from our own planet, without friends or protection, but we’ll go back someday, you mark my words!” 

Barbara looked to James for confirmation.

“Yes, it's true.” The old man nodded. “Every word of it's true. Oh, you, you don't know what you've done coming in here! You blasted fools!” He turned to the Doctor, who was currently fiddling back at the controls. “Granddaughter, I beg you, let them go now. Their minds reject things they don't understand. We can simply pretend this is all an illusion, and they’ll believe it themselves.”

“No,” said the Doctor. “No, Grandfather. We both know that isn’t true. When you mentioned these two humans, you told me that they had enquiring minds. Perhaps they’re advanced in thinking for their civilization, but look at what that civilization entails! The barbarism they’re complicit in. The oppression. No, I refuse to be made party to it, not at all!”

“She can't keep us here,” said Barbara. But James didn’t look so sure.

“James, listen to me.” Ian stepped forward and put his hands on the old man’s shoulders. “Can't you see that all this is an illusion? It's a game that you and your granddaughter are playing, if you like, but you can't expect us to believe it!” 

“It's not a game!” James smacked Ian’s hands away, affronted. “You fool!” 

“But James, it's--!” 

“It's not!” James raised a hand and cut Barbara off. “Look at you, look at the both of you! Oh, you’re disappointing. Yes, yes! As much as I enjoyed visiting England in the twentieth century, as much as I enjoy my friendship with the two of you, I would expect you two to be reasonable! I don’t enjoy traveling around, living without a time and a place to call home. No, it’s not ideal for an old man like me, though it suits my granddaughter, my little Doctor, well. Still, I expect you to maintain an open mind!” 

“But you are one of us!” Ian insisted. “You look like us, you sound like us.”

“I was born in another time, on another world,” said James. “As was my granddaughter. We grew up around sights that make the TARDIS seem mundane. No, no, I’m disappointed in the both of you. Quite disappointed.”

“Now look here, James, you….” Ian trailed off and shook his head. 

“Oh, come on, Ian, let's get out of here.” Barbara grabbed Ian’s arm and tried to pull him toward the door.

“Oh, it's no use.” James shook his head and turned to look at the Doctor, furiously working at th console. “No, you can't get out. She won't let you go.”

“She closed the doors from over there,” said Ian. “I saw her. Now, which is it?” He turned to the Doctor. “Which is it? Which control operates the door?”

“You still think it's all an illusion?” asked the Doctor, blithely. 

“I know that free movement in time and space is a scientific dream I don't expect to find solved in a junkyard by some girl!” 

Barbara whipped her head around and glared at Ian, half tempted to smack him. Of all the things to say at this moment, that was one of the most boneheaded things! Ian seemed to realize as much, hopefully, judging from the look on his face, but the damage was done. James made an irritated, scoffing noise and looked away. The Doctor drew herself up to her full height. Ian may have been taller than her, but she seemed to dominate the scene. 

“Your arrogance is nearly as great as your ignorance,” she said, icily. 

“Will you  _ please _ open the door?” asked Barbara. The Doctor stepped away from the console and crossed her arms. “Open the door!” The Doctor shook her head. She turned to face James. “James, will you help us?”

“What a foolish thing to do.” James tsked and shook his head.

“Very well, then,” said Barbara. “I'll have to risk it myself.” She strode over and reached to grab the most likely-looking level, one with a shiny red handle. 

“I can't stop you,” said the Doctor. 

“No!” shouted James. “No, don't touch it! It's live!”

It was too late. Barbara’s hand touched the handle, and immediately the current hit her like a baseball to the chin. Her muscles clenched and jerked, throwing her away from the console. 

“Barbara!” Ian caught her, thankfully, but her jaw had clacked together with such force that the ringing in her ears took a long time to subside. Ian held her tightly. “What on earth do you think you're doing?” he snapped, presumably at James and the Doctor. 

“Oh, granddaughter, let them go now, please.” James turned to the Doctor. “We can simply release them and leave. They won't say anything.”

“Oh grandfather, of course they will,” said the Doctor. “Put yourself in their place. They are bound to make some sort of a complaint to the authorities, or at the very least talk to their other friends. There's no alternative.”

“Oh, but they're both kind people,” said James. “And if we leave, we won’t need to take them with us. No, I disapprove. Bringing them along will cause more problems than it would solve. I trust them to remain quiet if we slip away, and even if they do say anything, it won’t harm us.”

“It's out of the question,” said the Doctor. “Now you're being sentimental. We can’t risk them being believed.”

“No, I mean it!” James tapped his walking stick against the floor. “I mean it, I do. Oh, granddaughter, can’t you see? This is a primitive time and a primitive world. Even if they tell the story, what then? No, it’ll merely be a tale for one of their radio shows. No, the sooner they leave, the less problems we’ll have from them.”

The Doctor bit her lip and seemed to consider the saliency of James’ arguments. 

“Fine, then,” she said. “I see I can’t convince you otherwise. I’ll let you win. I'll open the door.”

James grinned and adjusted his jacket, seemingly pleased with this turn of events. 

“Alright now, come along, you two,” said James. He sauntered over to the doors. “Alright, yes. No, you must swear to me, swear to me, that you’ll never breathe a word of this to anyone, do you understand?”

“Not a word,” agreed Ian.

Barbara nodded. 

“Good. Now, you’ll tell the people at the school that I--.” James spotted something behind Barbara and Ian and froze. His eyes widened in shock and horror. 

“Granddaughter! No!” He ran forward toward the console. Barbara and Ian turned as well and saw, to their horror, that the Doctor had punched in a sequence on the console and that the clear cylinder was starting to slowly move up and down. James grabbed the Doctor, trying to pull her away, but she fought against him. 

“Let me go!” she shouted. “Grandfather, let me go!” 

“No!” James said. “No, I mustn’t!” 

“Get back to the ship!” The Doctor was frantic. “The console! Hold it! Hold--”

The ship whirred and shook violently, making a raspy sound as the cylinder moved up and down, up and down. Barbara hoped desperately that the noise was a feature, and not a bug. She was thrown against Ian, and the weight toppled him to the side, throwing them both off balance. The Doctor and James grabbed onto the console. Barbara would have joined them, but it was all she could do to not be thrown into Ian. The humming and wheezing of the ship was deafening. 

The ship slung to one side, and Barbara was thrown into the old, antique chair while Ian sprawled out on the floor next to her. There was a heavy pressure, like being in an airplane and being unable to pop her ears. It built and built and built, and Barbara started to see things. Bright skies that looked as much like skies as the real sky looked like a toddler’s drawing of such, flush with colors unlike any Barbara had seen before. It was too lucid, and too real, and the enormity and complexity of it sent Barbara reeling into a deep, black, sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Art of the first three Doctorswap Doctors in this au, including Doctor!Susan: https://twitter.com/BLily16/status/1309995849515175938
> 
> I may do more of these in the future, who knows.


End file.
